POETRY
The Light of Surrender
Keep Writing
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What if I’m already dead?
How would I know, you know?
I think I’d remember if it were
one of those real nice and slow ones
but who can know what they do not know?
The most I knew of life was that I was alive
because I could experience
think and
be aware
as well as
grow to understand a single thread
of consciousness
my consciousness
carved like a river through a canyon
over time unfolding itself for warmth
I became Me
Myself
and I.
What if I’m already dead?
I suppose the real problem I have
with that question
relates more to relations
as in, who is in attendance
to the carnival attraction
of my demise?
If I could not live life
by the terms of my design
then by the gods I shall reign
forever aloft in my pen’s pale moonshine.
Fetch me a branch
Grab me a stone
Toss me some dirt
So that we may see
which survives time.
I etch my words of tomorrow
Upon the stonework of my today
So that all who come after may read
Words and thoughts from my time and day.
What if I’m already dead?
What if there is no more time?
What if I have been wrong, all along, about everything?
What if I’m already dead
and it doesn’t matter but
what if it does?
Eerie evils creep craftily within withered mind-machine
Casting caustic darkness — dashing…
